


Companions React to Waking Up to Find the Sole Survivor in Their Embrace

by tea_petty



Series: Collection of Companions' Reactions [20]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Companions, Companions React, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, F/M, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: When the Companions get pulled from Dreamland, they find themselves, still in a dream of sorts.





	Companions React to Waking Up to Find the Sole Survivor in Their Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-petty.

**Cait** : Cait cracked an eye open, as she felt Sole stir beside her.  Normally, she was viciously protective of her sleep, as it tended to evade her. Ever since she started sharing a bed with Sole, she found herself sleeping through the night more and more frequently.  Sole stirred softly again, and uttered something barely coherent, her voice soft as spring rain.

Cait smiled sleepily and adjusted her position so  she could get a better look.  Sole was still deeply, deeply asleep, despite the low sounds that left her slightly parted lips.  She nestled snugly into Cait’s side, as the latter’s arm tossed lazily over her waist.  The consistent rise and fall of her chest was punctuated by a gentle snore.  Then, Sole spoke again.

“…te.”

Cait squinted as if it would help her string together the loose syllables coming from Sole.

Sole stirred again, her eyebrows briefly knitting together, before relaxing, her sleeping body only subconsciously perturbed.

“…ate…ree.”

Cait’s eyes fell shut, but she was very much awake – curiosity driving her through her groggy fog.

“…Nate…”  Sole moaned sleepily, “Sorry…”

Cait’s chest squeezed, and for a moment, she considered waking Sole.  Whatever visions plagued her sleep couldn’t be great if they involved her late spouse, and regret.

A sad whimper left Sole, before she sighed and turned towards Cait.  Tentatively, Cait reached up to caress the side of her face, half to soothe her, half searching for any trace of wetness.  The corner of Sole’s mouth twitched from the touch, and Cait shook slightly, as she stifled a quick huff of a laugh.

‘I love you.’

She mouthed silently, gently striking a finger down the bridge of Sole’s nose, and watching her wrinkle it at the tickling sensation.  Automatically, Sole scooched herself closer into Cait, and she reached around to wrap her other arm around her.  With her hopes in her arms, and her heart on her sleeve, Cait’s eyes fell shut. Cait returned to dreamland, the promises of a safe return as sure as the sun rising the next morning.

 **Curie** : Curie’s eyes flew open, and right away she knew they were not supposed to.  It was still dark out. From what she knew about studying Circadian rhythms, she was supposed to still be asleep.  Her body was supposed to want to still be asleep.  And yet, the clock on the nightstand beamed an impressive 3:23 AM.  Despite the subtle burn at her eyes, she felt wide awake.

Her body was heavy with sleep and yet, her consciousness, vivaciously awake, like a live wire taut with electrifying energy – Curie was unfamiliar with the sensation of fatigue.  She turned to Sole, who was nestled firmly under an arm that was curved protectively around her.  Curie’s heart squeezed at the sight, and she was suddenly overtaken with how staggeringly her love for the woman in her arms was.  Another human nuance her robot experience was non-acquainted with.

Sole stirred in Curie’s grip, and without thinking she swooped forward to press her lips at the crown of Sole’s head.  The soft, satisfied hum that left Sole as Curie did so made her heart twinge, and Curie shifted, uncomfortable with the strange physical manifestations human emotions exhibited.

Curie busied herself by carding her fingers through Sole’s hair, inhaling her gentle, sleepy scent as it mingled with her own.  Gradually, Curie felt the rigid energy coiled inside of her melt away into a slow, thick sleepiness that seeped through her.  It could have been minutes or hours.  Curie sat there, muscles slowly relaxing, breathing slowing, and half lidded eyes falling shut, before suddenly Curie was asleep.  The first of many nights Curie would find herself tumultuously searching for sleep, and with Sole at her side to aid her.

 **Danse** :   Danse looked to Sole’s figure, wrapped snugly in his arms, as a twinge of envy ran through him.  Sole slept soundly, soft snores spilling from her mouth, as her chest rose and fall with the rhythm of her breathing.  The cold moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the slopes of her and casting a dim ray of light on her serene expression.  Danse’s chest squeezed painfully; she looked so much smaller without the guarded furrow of her brow, and the defensive tension holding her body taut.  Danse was suddenly overcome with the inane desire to reach out and stroke her cheek, to trace the pad of his finger along the plush skin of her cheek.  Danse raised a finger apprehensively and paused a few centimeters from Sole.

Was this okay?  To touch her like this when she was so vulnerable and trusting in her current state felt presumptuous.  Watching her sleep, he already felt like he was stealing away private moments. Moments only people intimate with one another had.  This… thing they had; it was new and fragile. Danse felt his inexperience in these matters could break it.  As if by even occupying the same realm of space, as his and Sole’s lovely, delicate thing, he could somehow look at it the wrong way, or breathe and smash the whole thing to smithereens. Shame burned Danse’s cheeks.  It felt laughable really, this…lack of experience at his age.  Especially when he was with someone like Sole – she had been married and had a child!  Danse would bet that the last time she had encountered such inexperience was high school.

Such a notion stood at the back of his mind every time he was with her, mocking him every time he had by the childish urge to grab her hand, taunting him every time he captured her in an inept kiss, jockeying him to screw up when they were intimate.  He felt caught, suspended haphazardly in the middle by his urge to love Sole the hardest he could, and him knowing he completely, and utterly did not deserve such a privilege.

Still, in smaller moments like these, when most of his demons were bogged down by fatigue, and his arm already thrown over Sole, Danse took comfort in knowing that she had probably spent most of the night safely wrapped like so.  In one gliding movement, Danse reached forward and gently brushed a lock of hair away from Sole’s face.  Satisfaction welled inside him when she stirred softly in his arms, and a pleasant sigh escaped her lips.  Confidence growing, Danse leaned in to press his lips to her forehead, allowing himself to linger and draw in her familiar scent.  Danse’s eyes fluttered shut.

He still wasn’t sure he deserved this, let alone was worthy of it, but he did know that he was drawn to Sole.  As surely, and naturally as the earth and moon and sun played their games of tug-‘o’-war with gravity  in the heavens.  His need to remain close to her was vastly stronger than his doubt, so long as he promised to himself that he’d use this closeness to protect and cherish her for the rest of their days.

 **Deacon** : Deacon blinked at Sole, swaddled in a mess of blankets and tucked under his arm.  Fatigue made his body feel heavy, but vigilance kept his muscles taut – whipcord ready to come alive at any moment.  Subconsciously, his protective hold on Sole tightened.  They were nestled safely in Sanctuary, taking a night to recuperate at Sole’s home, before heading out for another dead drop the next day.  A deep line scored into Deacon’s forehead.  He remembered how easy it used to be when he was a free agent: get in, kick ass, take names, get out.  If something went wrong then…oh well.  At least he’d been a part of something that mattered.  Maybe he’d even see Barbara again.  This careless indifference kept him miraculously alive through all of his missions and the Switchboard.  Now, Deacon had Sole, who could possibly be crazier than he was.  It hadn’t bothered him at first; in fact, he’d been pleasantly surprised at how much he enjoyed teaming up with her.  But then things changed between them.  Sole thought it had been that one night, staking out Goodneighbor, when they had gotten side tracked at the Hotel Rexford…

But Deacon knew better.  Had they skipped that night entirely, it would’ve been another hotel, in another city.  Or maybe not a hotel or city at all – maybe instead it would’ve been a smaller, quainter affair in a tent, next to a campfire.  Or over the corpse of a Deathclaw.  It most certainly would’ve happened at some point.

Regardless of who was right (and Deacon knew he was), that single kiss started everything.  It was as if Sole turned on some sort of sixth sense in him. A sensethat’s only purpose was to watch her, know where she was.  For the first time since perhaps his UP Deathclaw days, Deacon found himself fidgety and a little indecisive.  It scared the hell out of him.

Such uncertainty would surely cost both of them their lives.  Deacon could count the number of close calls they’d had in the past week, on his hands.  If he counted the number of times he’d made sure that he stood between Sole and oncoming danger in that same amount of time, he’d run out of fingers and toes to count on.

Deacon looked again to his hands, and the person occupying them.  His chest squeezed as he pinched his eyes shut.  Glory’s words from a few weeks prior echoed in his head; fear means you have something to lose.

 **Hancock** : Hancock leaned further into the pillows, as one hand lifted a container of jet to his mouth, and the other squeezed Sole adoringly.  He inhaled deeply, letting the fumes wash through him, closing his eyes decadently.  Sole felt warm beneath his touch.  He found the even motions of her breathing relaxing, akin to having a cat curled up in his lap.  Idly, Hancock mused at what he was doing.  When he’d spotted Sole that night at the Third Rail, he’d picked gin as her poison.

A few drinks in, she rested a coy hand on his thigh, and he cleared his throat.

“Say doll, I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into.”

His voice had been a gravelly rasp as his gaze appraised her.

She wasn’t just another broad in a bar for him, not at all.  But in the familiar, foggy glow of the Third Rail, Hancock felt he should stick to what he knew.  Banter and propositions not fully spoken until they were in the private safety of the Old State House.

The night flew by at the speed of light after that – full of heated kisses, and Hancock getting handfuls of Sole everywhere; her hair as his fingers caught in it, her body as she pushed against him.  On the outside, the mayor of Goodneighbor was sleek – a man who was no stranger to women or matters of the heart.  On the inside, he marveled at every delicious turn the evening had in store for him.  Were those her fists, balled at his shirt?  Was that his name spilling from her lips?

For hours they pushed and pulled, fell apart and came together again, and now Sole lay, the thin sheet dripping luxuriously from her skin, as Hancock sat back, enjoying a post coital hit of jet.  Half of him wondered if he should’ve stayed sober; his first time with Sole was something he desperately wanted to remember after all.  However, the reality of the situation wasn’t one he was quite ready to face yet; the fact that their union had been the result of a one night stand in her eyes, and not the deep laden affections that permeated through every fiber in his being.  He was pining for her.  God did he loath that word.  But he was.

Hancock’s fingers tightened around Sole, just the barest hint, as the foggy high of jet clouded his mind.

I should tell her how I feel.

Panic stirred in the pit of Hancock’s stomach.  At the back of his mind, a voice scolded him for contemplating such important matters while high.  He was a seasoned enough user to know better than that, at least.

I should tell her how I feel, so that I can do this every night.

Or maybe he didn’t know better after all.

 **MacCready** : MacCready lounged in the center of the bed, and rested his head back against the pillows.  One arm was curled protectively around Duncan, and the other around Sole.  MacCready beamed softly down at Duncan; his small, cherub cheeks rosy, and the rest of him, blue-boil free.  Both of MacCready’s bedmates snored softly, and he chuckled at how the pair looked, mirroring each other’s sprawled pose on the bed.  It was a miracle all three of them fit.

Duncan had run in earlier that night, eyes brimming with tears after a particularly bad nightmare.  Much to MacCready’s delight, Sole scooped the crying child up in her arms, and coaxed him back to sleep with a lullaby.  Watching Sole with Duncan, MacCready’s chest had squeezed.  She was the sort of mother Lucy had always talked about wanting to be, and she was the type of mother Lucy would’ve wanted for Duncan, if she herself couldn’t be there to fill the role.  MacCready wondered if it was the same for Sole.  Since she couldn’t be the mother she wanted to be for Shaun, perhaps now Duncan was her second chance, as she was MacCready’s.

The lull of sleep was punctuated by a sudden loud snore that tore from Duncan’s throat, and MacCready had to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking in delight at his son.  On his other side, Sole began stirred gently, rolling over so that she was curled up against MacCready.  Unconsciously, she threw an arm haphazardly across MacCready’s waist, and MacCready pulled her closer, the sudden rush of emotion he felt paying no mind to not waking Sole.

The motion was enough to rouse Sole into a groggy, half-awake state.

“RJ?”  she sighed sleepily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey sweetheart,” MacCready whispered, not wanting to wake Duncan. “Go back to sleep, I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Mm, s’okay.”

MacCready stroked a hand through her hair, before sweeping down the side of her face, and gently cradling her jaw.  Sole leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut again.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He nestled further into the bed, as his family slept beside him.

 **Nick Valentine** :  Nick’s golden gaze appraised Sole’s sleeping form: her slightly parted lips, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way she somehow managed to commandeer the entire bed.  A small, lopsided smile played at Nick’s lips.

Being a Gen 2 synth, Nick did not have to sleep.  The closest he got were short diagnostics runs, in which his ‘personality interface’ temporarily shut down in order for internal processes to work.  But even that measly instance of downtime couldn’t compare to the full, several hour knockout humans required.  Nick had never minded it – he’d lived amongst humans long enough to realize this; his Detective Agency kept a bed for Ellie, and when journeying with Sole, he anticipated setting up camp for the night.  Ironically enough, Sole had been the one self-conscious about it when they had first gotten together.

She had been puzzled when he loosened his tie and discarded his jacket before climbing into bed with her.  He had intended to let her cuddle up to him at night, thinking it cute. Instead, she’d stayed up all night, her worry of boring him mingling with excitement at being at such a proximity with him for the first time.

Now it was old hat; this special way of ending their day.  Sole would fall into bed, exhausted, and Nick would be there to gather her in his arms, keeping the nightmares at bay.  Nick’s eyes fell shut as he drank the moment in.  The subtle whirring that sounded from inside his frame mingled with the soft snores that came from Sole.  When his eyes opened again, Sole was staring sleepily back at him.

“Are you watching me sleep again, Nicky?” she teased.

“You got me, doll.”

Sole twisted in his arms, so that she was laying on her side now, her face in a position that would allow her to easily bury it into his chest, if she so chose.

“Mm, good.”

Nick wrapped another arm around her, as her eyes feel shut again.  Nick placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight.”

 **Longfellow** :  Longfellow sighed at the sight of Sole tucked beneath his arm. For once, her eyebrows not drawn together in agitation, and her mouth not turned pointedly down.  Seldom did she look so peaceful around him.  Lately, it seemed as if Sole could barely even look at him without anger steeling her gaze.  Sometimes he would ask himself why he stuck around, even though he secretly knew the answer.

Besides, the whole mess was his fault.  He hadn’t realized selling out Avery – or at least who they’d thought was Avery – would have been perceived as such a traitorous act.  When he had done it, he only had the well being of Far Harbor in mind.  Sole had confronted him the very same night Avery was strung up.

“We hadn’t made a decision yet.” Sole rounded on him hotly, her eyes flashing.

“I did,” Longfellow grunted, “years ago.  I made that decision as a Harborman long ago.”

“Things are not black or white!  Now because of what you’ve done, not only is Avery dead –“

“The Avery imposter,” Longfellow interjected.

“- but countless others in Acadia as well!” Sole hissed.

“I never swore to protect Acadia,” Longfellow defended, “jus’ Far Harbor.”

“And how well did that work out?” Sole retorted. “Because of you, Far Harbor has wiped out the island’s most peaceful inhabitants, and a Far Harbor woman is dead.”

Longfellow had wanted to argue that the woman who was dead, wasn’t really from Far Harbor at all, that a real Far Harbor had died for the sake of creating such an imposter.  But the words wouldn’t leave his tongue, and his throat closed up.  For the first time in decades, Longfellow felt shame.  He hated the way Sole looked at him then and there, and more so, he hated the way she couldn’t look at him any other way, since.

Longfellow sighed heavily, his arm thrown over Sole in their sleep.  He was too afraid to keep it there, fearing she might wake up and look at him like that again.  Or else, that she wouldn’t, and that moments like this are all he’d ever have of her again.  Just him, pretending that in her sleepy content, she didn’t still loathe him while awake.

Longfellow’s eyes fell shut, as he reveled in Sole’s warmth a few inches away; as close as he’d dare to get to her, even in her unconscious state.  He hoped his dreams would deliver him to happier days.

 **Piper** :  Piper gazed fretfully at Sole, who was tucked safely underneath the former’s arm.  Her shoulder was bandaged snuggly, the wrappings firmly anchoring it in place, despite the day’s brutal dislocation.  Sole’s face was blank as serene sleep found her.  Dried tear marks streaked her face, alluding to the earlier trauma she had endured in fixing her shoulder.  Piper’s grip on her tightened, as she was careful not to jostle or touch the arm in any way.

They had tried to return another Deathclaw egg to its nest – as always, Piper chastised Sole about the sheer insanity of such a task.  As always, Sole had insisted.  Besides it had all worked out well and good the first time, right?  It almost had this time as well.  Piper was crouched, flanking Sole, looking around vigilantly as she kept watch for the mother.  Sole crept closer to the nest, egg resting in her hands.

A twig snapped beneath Sole’s careful step, and Piper’s head jerked up in alarm.

“Relax, Pipes,”  Sole chided, with an easy grin on her face.

“I’ll be more relaxed when you get that damned thing in the nest,”  Piper muttered, still shifty-eyed.

“Piper it’s –“

Piper’s gaze flew to Sole automatically, alarmed by the abrupt way in which she broke off.  A few feet in front of Sole, on the other side of the nest, stood the mother Deathclaw.  She towered above them, sniffing ominously, as her eyes glowed a sinister orange.

“Hey,” Sole cooed, crouching lower, so she was closer to the nest.  “It’s okay, I’ll just give this back to you, ‘mama’,”

Piper was frozen.  The Deathclaw’s curious sniffing halted suddenly.  She had gotten all the information she needed.  A low rattle sounded from her throat.

“Here you go,”  Sole cooed again, carefully stretching her hands out so that she could replace the egg, before suddenly the Deathclaw lurched forward.

Piper had let out a shriek, before suddenly Sole was thrown across the dry gulley.  Piper hurtled after her.  Mama Deathclaw made no move to follow, too preoccupied with her egg.

“S-Sole?”  Piper called out hesitantly, as she approached Sole’s crumpled form.

When she had reached Sole’s side, she rolled her over onto her back, and immediately exhaled in relief.  No signs of blood – that was good, Deathclaw’s had a reputation for…shredding after all.  Upon closer inspection though, Piper’s relief morphed into a strange, confused panic.  Sole’s left shoulder looked grotesquely disfigured, a sharp angle contorting the normally smooth slope of her deltoid.

“Sole…”  Piper breathed, reaching forward.

Sole’s eyes cracked open, and she wailed in pain, her other arm flying over to favor the wounded side.

Just a dislocation, but an especially painful one.  It had taken them an hour to put it back into place, mostly because it had been so painful to shift in the first place.

Piper had luckily had enough bandages stowed away in her bag to wrap it, unluckily though, she had no Med X.  Sole had moaned painfully as Piper helped her back to Diamond City, each anguished noise making Piper’s heart twinge.

Piper pushed a lock of hair from Sole’s face, grateful she finally found peace despite the events of the day.  And as much as Piper hated to admit it, at least it hadn’t all been for nothing.  When she awoke, she’d be pleased to know that in spite of everything, mother and child had been reunited after all.

And will be again, Piper thought adamantly, shifting so that she could encapsulate Sole safely in both arms.

 **Gage [NSFW]** :  Gage didn’t need to crack an eye open to know that his arm was thrown over Sole.  Nor did he have to take the time to look in order to know which part of her.  The soft divot of her waist was indication enough.

Gage was tired and groggy.  Even with his eyes shut, he could gather that it was either super late, or freakishly early, judging by the darkness that hovered outside his eyelids.  Sleep still slowed him, and so Gage settled on groping blindly in the dark.

His hands inched up the slope of Sole’s back, feeling the smooth skin beneath it.  Grunting sleepily, Gage pressed himself closer to her, and revelled in the soft sigh that escaped her in response.  His hand smoothed further up, tucking coyly into the side of her upper torso, before moving to nudge the swell of her breast.

After Sole sighed contentedly, Gage moved in further, blindly pressing his lips into the nearest part of Sole.  His mouth touched into something soft, and hair tickled his nose – her neck?  The short gasp she let out confirmed this, before she reached lazily up to wrap an arm around him.  Gage snaked his other arm around her waist, effectively anchoring her to him.

“Gage,” Sole sighed.

“Mm, Sole.”

Gage’s voice was gruff; he only used her name in the safe, privacy the night provided.  Usually, she was ‘Boss’.

Sole leaned backwards into Gage, wriggling her butt slightly, teasing him.

Gage gritted his teeth, before slouching his grip down to steady her hips.

“Behave.”

Sole twisted in his arms so that she could look him full in the face.

“I thought I was the boss.”

Gage’s cheeks burned at the openness of his lover’s gaze, as she addressed him.

“That’s everywhere but here.”

Sole hummed, satisfied, and Gage swooped in to plant a series of soft kisses at her neck.  His body tingled at the sounds that escaped Sole from his ministrations.  It was good to be in charge.

 **Preston** :  Preston’s eyes fluttered open.  The room was cast in deep blues and bold greys; night having not yet lifted its inky shroud from the Commonwealth. In Preston’s arms, Sole lay tucked back against his chest, snoring softly.  A small smile played on Preston’s lips and he inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent; subtly sweet and oddly fitting for the image of her slumber.

Preston’s face nestled warmly in the juncture of the base of Sole’s neck, and her shoulder.  His fingers fought the urge to run across the soft slope of her abdomen – he didn’t want to wake her after all.  Still, her warm skin, just inches away from his lips, enticed him. Eventually, he decided it would be okay to partake, so long as he was very, very carefully.

Preston’s smile turned slightly michievous, as he deliberately moved in, lips first.  He nuzzled gently into her neck and froze when Sole stirred.  A quiet, content sigh escaped her before she stilled.  Preston leaned in again and peppered a series of gentle kisses at her neck.  Sole sighed again, as Preston’s chest squeezed at the sound.

He continued with his kisses, gradually allowing his lips to part with each passing contact.  Sole unconsciously pressed herself closer to him, reveling in the feel of his warm breath fanning over her skin.

Preston’s grip tightened around Sole at the sensation of her body responding to his; pushing into him, as if even pressed flush against him, there was too much distance between them.  Curiously, his tongue darted out, tracing an unknown shape into the column of her throat.  Sole stirred more outwardly with a soft moan.

The tang of her skin on his tongue and the plushness of her beneath his lips was addicting.  Preston’s hands grew restless on Sole, and she twisted in his arms, before he could wander further.

“Mm, you’re up late.  Or…early?”  Sole’s sleepy gaze flicked to the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”Preston murmured, pressing a less heated kiss against her forehead.

“S’fine, especially the way you did it.” The corner of Sole’s mouth quirked up.

Preston chuckled, shifting so that Sole was nestled more comfily in his embrace.“Noted.”

Sole reached a hand up to shyly touch his jaw, her thumb curving over to trace his lips.  A few moments of reverent quiet settled between them.

“I love you,” Sole whispered.

Somehow, speaking such a truth out into the blind shadows of night made it feel more raw.  Preston’s cheeks warmed, though no one but him would know.

“I love you too.”

Preston kissed Sole’s thumb, still conveniently at his lips, before gently reaching up and maneuvering her hand so that he could place a kiss at each of her fingers. One for each promise he made her silently in his head.

 **Strong** :  Strong’s large, unconscious form had never looked so peaceful. If Sole dared to say it, vulnerable.  The goofy snores that tore from his throat contrasted starkly with the bits of human flesh still stuck between his teeth. Much like anyone else, there was a gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.  Though, his barrel chest was much larger than any human one, and it took about three times as longer to empty or fill, as that of a human’s.

One might marvel at seeing one of the Commonwealth’s most feared creatures so serene.  Sole probably would’ve, had she not been preoccupied with more pressing matters.  One of Strong’s beefy arms was thrown across her sternum, pinning Sole effectively, and greatly narrowing the amount of air her desperate lungs could drawn in at a time.

“S-Strong,” Sole called out hoarsely.Her restrained voice was barely perceptible above Strong’s raucous snoring.

“S-Someone?”Sole tried again, franticly glancing back and forth.  Her prospects seemed bleak.  Not many willingly chose to be within a close proximity of a super mutant.

“Anyone?” Sole squeaked.

Strong stirred slightly, and Sole seized the opportunity to draw in a full breath of air.  The opportunity cost though, was getting up.  Sole had a moment of relief, before Strong’s arm closed around her again, drawing her more closely, and worse yet, more firmly into Strong’s embrace.

Dark spots speckled Sole’s vision.  Sole squinted, Strong’s agape jaw directly in her line of sight.  Oh God, is that human flesh?  Had it the space to do so, Sole’s stomach would’ve flipped.  Strong’s foul-smelling, hot breath fanned across Sole’s face with each long, relaxed exhale.  Sole’s eyes fluttered nauseously, and instinctively, she leaned backwards, holding her breath to keep the stench at bay.

Whoops.  At least he’ll be less grumpy when he wakes up, was Sole’s last thought before unconsciousness washed over her.

 **X6-88** :  X6 gazed at Sole through half lidded eyes, propping his head up with the arm that wasn’t wrapped securely around her sleeping form.  X6 knew it was in his best interest to be sleeping right now, and yet, not an ounce of him could bring himself to tear his eyes away.  Her mouth was slightly agape, her hair splayed out around her like a halo; unmarred by the burdens of her wakened mind, it was clear that she was quite pretty.  Not that he would’ve ever expressed such a frivolous notion to her, still though, in the cool hues of a day that had not yet been touched by the sun, X6 was transfixed.

Delicately, he reached forward to push a lock of hair from her face, pausing to rub it between his fingers.  It was so soft.  X6 was suddenly taken with the urge to bury his face in the haphazard mess of curls.  Without thinking, his face swooped in, and pressed into the crown of Sole’s head.  He inhaled deeply, his eyes falling reverently shut.

A sleepy, comforting scent washed over him; so distinctively Sole.  X6’s chest squeezed; these fleeting, intimate moments were theirs.  The one thing he owned, that perhaps, the Institute had no hand in.  X6 pulled away, to once again gaze down at Sole, carding his fingers through her hair, and it was beautiful.

 **Maxson** : Arthur’s eyes shot open, although nothing perceptible to the average, untrained ear prompted it.  Years of militant practices, both by his parents and the Brotherhood had honed him into an ever vigilant, battle-ready machine.  Night still clung to the windows, and Arthur waited for a few moments for his eyes to adjust.  He was laying in his bed, in his private quarters on the Prydwen; just as he had every night, for the four years he had been Elder so far.  And yet, there was something relatively new about the scene.

Curled under his arm, was Sole – a development that had stumbled upon the Prydwen just a few months prior.  Her frame was swaddled in the thick blankets Arthur had kept, from the shoulder down; a cold sleeper.  Arthur slept bare beside her, in just his undergarments; a warm sleeper.  One arm was curled protectively around the assumed vicinity of her waist.  Arthur willed the tension coiled in his muscles to melt away; he was just a light sleeper.  Nothing urgent was happening.  He pressed a kiss to the crown of Sole’s head, lingering to nuzzle into her hair, drawing in her familiar scent.  She was comfortably warm; like a hot tea, or warm bath.

Poking out from the foot of the bed, were her feet.  Arthur’s feet, as a result of his staggering height, just barely hung off the edge of the bed.  A small smile played at his lips, uncharacteristically innocent, as he was allowed to be, in such private, fleeting instances.  Unable to resist the near-magnetic pull Sole had on him, Arthur allowed himself to shyly press his feet to hers, in one-sided footsy.  As swiftly as his skin made contact with hers, Arthur jolted.  Her feet were like ice.  Again, Arthur pressed his feet to hers, enveloping them this time in a serious attempt to warm them.  A few moments passed, and Sole seemed unable to leech off his warmth.  Arthur tried again to warm her, rubbing his feet against the chilled surface of her skin.  Sole stirred under his fervent ministrations.

“Arthur?”

Her voice was confused and groggy.

“Sole.” His voice was quiet and disgruntled.

It was as if he hadn’t considered the possibility of her waking up, and now that she had, he was at a loss as for what to do.

“What are you doing?”  Sole tiredly tried to prop herself up on one forearm.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

Gently, but firmly, Arthur pressed her back into the pillows, softening the gesture with another series of kisses peppered at her cheeks.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Sole mumbled, eyebrows drawing together in a sleepy fussiness.

“You’re right,” he chided. “I noticed you were cold, so I was trying to warm you.”

Sole cocked an eyebrow and tried again to prop herself up.

“That’s ridiculous Arthur. I’m all blanket here.”

“Your feet,” Arthur insisted, “your feet were cold, so I thought I tried to warm them.”

It was the truth, but it sounded like a horrifically cheap excuse.  Arthur’s inexperience in such matters, and his subsequent abashedness only made him appear further caught.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I’m being honest.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“I am!”

Sole studied him for a moment before raising her hands back in a sign of surrender.

“Alright, alright, you were…’keeping my feet warm’, or whatever you want to call it.”

“There’s nothing else to call i-“

“But—” Sole flopped back down to the pillows, her eyes falling shut “—for the record, you have my full permission to…’keep whatever part of me warm’.”

Sole cracked one eye open and grinned impishly, a wide grin spreading across her face.

Arthur flushed. “Sole, I-“

“Don’t worry about it Arthur, no judgment here.”

Sole’s eye shut again, and she scooched closer to Arthur, reveling in his space heater like radiative body heat.  Arthur’s face was still frozen in indignant shock, fighting for a way to make Sole believe him, by the time she had already drifted off to Dreamland, her imagination painting pretty pictures of her and Arthur, in her wake.


End file.
